


Thirst

by delorita, SilverFountains



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Biblical References, F/M, First Time, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Master/Servant, Romantic Friendship, Self-Flagellation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:58:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delorita/pseuds/delorita, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: Their relationship as master and servant was an unusual one. Forged out of their mutual pain and suffering they sought solace in each other's company. But one night when Zita finds the count punishing his supressed desires harshly she convinces him to let her take away his pain.AU version of Girolamo's and Zita's sex scene on the boat to the New World.Prompt from witchesdelite: Prequel to Fallen Angel - Riario's and Zita's first time, Riario virgin





	Thirst

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchesdelite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchesdelite/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fallen Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700742) by [SilverFountains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains), [witchesdelite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchesdelite/pseuds/witchesdelite). 



“Your….” Grace. Zita immediately swallows the word as she steps closer into the room. She had entered because she thought her master had been calling for her but surely she must have misheard. What she sees now almost makes her gasp out loud but she knows better not to do it. 

The count is standing in the middle of the room with his back to her and all she sees is blood. Torn skin and thick rivulets of red liquid running down his back and into the waistband of his trousers. 

She knows about chastising but had never seen it done so severely. Not good. Too much. I need to stop him. 

“Your Grace,” Zita dares to say out loud. “You called for me,” she straightens her back to prepare for the full onslaught of whatever answer he might give her in words or actions. 

Riario jumps a mile, dropping the whip on the floor in his fright. He had been so focused on his task, so focused on the pain, that he had not heard Zita come into his rooms. He sure had not called for her, although he guesses he must have shouted out as the leather tore into his skin. 

He turns himself around, his hair wild, his eyes even wilder. It does not even register in his dull pulsing brain that he is bare from the waist up. 

“Zita,” he croaks, trying to steady himself. “What are you doing here?!”

The servant takes in the picture of her master almost completely undone and she knows a quick decision has to be made. She notices the bulge in his tight trousers, probably the reason for his whipping and not subsided yet, even though he must have been at it for a while. “I came here to help to release you from your inner pain,” she says softly, unfastening her skirt and letting it fall to the floor. Her eyes not leaving his contoured features.

Riario stares at the woman with eyes wide as dishes as she disrobes before him. He had expected anything but that!

His first reaction is anger in his shock as he grabs her skirt up from the floor and throws the garment at her to cover her up. “How dare you…” he gasps. “I am a man of God!”

Zita stays completely calm, “Men of the Bible took their pleasures without feeling guilty about it,” she whispers. 

The Captain General remains nailed to the floor, unable to move away from the woman before him who so unashamedly displays herself for him and equally unable to tear away his gaze. Of course he has seen women naked before. Whilst he had never indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, his father was less pious when it came to such matters. And whilst ragazzi were favoured, he had equally encountered women of questionable reputation in his father's chambers who had displayed their wares to him in attempts to draw his interest. But whereas those abused and sinful bodies had generated nothing but revulsion in him, this one before him now makes his heart beat faster and his groin tingle. 

“I am sure they did,” he chokes. “But being without guilt hardly means we are without sin,” he says in a tone he wishes had come out harsher and more convincing than it has. 

Zita looks at the fierce expression in her master's face, loosening the ties of her blouse, starting to talk in a low but not too seductive voice. “King Salomon visited the kingdom of Sheba, my homeland of Abissinia. There he met the beautiful Queen and invited her to banquet at his palace. She asks Solomon to swear to not take her by force. He agreed. As long as she would take nothing of value from his home.” She stops, waiting for his answer with anticipation.

Riario wets his lips as suddenly his mouth feels way too dry. He stares at Zita's revealed breasts, at how perfect they are - not too big and not too small. Even as he tries to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow, something more urgently wonders how they would feel in his hands. 

“Seems an easy vow to keep,” he mutters a response to Zita's words, even as he struggles to keep his own. 

“But when she awoke at midnight, the Queen was thirsty.” Zita lets the tip of her tongue slide across her bottom lip. She’s aware that she has the count’s attention, his gaze focused on her body. “And when she reached for water,” her voice shakes a little as she feels very exposed now. Never before she had revealed herself to a man like that. “Solomon appeared, warning she was breaking her oath…” Zita holds her breath, not sure whether to step closer to the man who mesmerizes her. She doesn't do anything though, just standing there, naked, looking at him, willing him to forget about what he thinks are his sins for a moment.

“And nothing in the desert is as precious as water…” the count whispers as he does take a step forward, his fingers itching to touch everything he had forbidden himself until now and his cock is rock hard inside his trousers. He keeps his hands to himself though, not wanting to break the spell. Not yet... 

“She choose to drink...” Zita’s voice is hoarse now, her whole body throbbing with excitement, hoping she didn’t do the wrong thing, “...setting Solomon free of his promise not to take her…” Another deep breath before drawing the conclusion of her favourite saga, “...and they spent the night together willingly. The Queen of Sheba fell in love with Solomon. And she converted my homeland to the Lord God of Israel without regrets.” Zita’s voice had faded in the end and her blouse fell out of her hand onto the floor.

“That story...,” Riario sways slightly as he's so close to the woman now that he can smell her scent which drives him crazy, “... is not in the Bible.” He knows the argument is feeble now. He knows he's already lost to her spell, but he's still hesitant to make the first move even though she's offered herself willingly if he's to believe tale.

“Not everything is, my Lord,” Zita moves a bit more into his personal space, daring to lift her hand and caress his neck fleetingly, encouraging him, but not wanting to overwhelm him. It’s like dancing on a rope above an abyss. 

Her touch is like fire on his skin. The count feels his barriers shatter like ice at that moment and he launches himself at her, grabbing her into his arms, pushing her back with his body pressed against hers, searching her mouth awkwardly, hungrily, desperately.

For a moment Zita is surprised at the sudden movement. She had expected something, but not as all consuming as this. She slings her arms around his neck to not fall. The kiss is so passionate, it takes her breath away. She feels such a joy inside, that the man of the Church had understood her meaning. That she could distract him from his self harm and concentrate on her instead. She’s kissing him back with all the longing she discovered for him months ago. Their lips and tongues melting together.

Girolamo lifts her up, wraps her legs around his waist as he marches the two of them into the adjacent bedroom. His cock jolts inside his trousers, straining to be released. He manages to somehow land both of them on his bed, only cringing briefly as the movement pulls at his fresh wounds. But the passion he feels now consumes all of his other feelings. 

He yanks at his belt as he showers Zita with hard needy kisses. But there's still a tiny part of him that bucks at the idea of what they are about to do. Decades of self-punishment for any hint at sexual desire throb angrily in his temples and as he pulls down his trousers he hesitates briefly.

“Your Grace,” Zita murmurs reassuringly, “It is no sin to have a glass of water in the desert now and then,” she tries to continue in the spirit of her story. The man in front of her holds so much bitterness, so much grief. He needs an act of kindness and love and not yet more punishment from his own hand.  
She leans herself on her elbows, smiling at him warmly, spreading her legs just a little to invite him.

Girolamo feels like he's drowning in an entire ocean of water as he slides inside of her. He's surprised how easy and natural it feels, how he does not have to think about what to do or how to do it, but that his body has all those answers already. He closes his eyes briefly as heat envelopes him, melting the last bits of ice in his heart. “Zita,” he whispers reverently, blindly seeking her mouth again. 

Her name being spoken so softly lets tears well up in her eyes. Zita answers the firm but gentle kiss with one of her own. She’s letting the soles of her feet slide over Girolamo's calves. Bathing in their intimacy. He feels incredible inside of her. Hot, strong, alive! 

She’s very mindful to not slide her hands onto his back but very tentatively into his hair. 

Now that Riario has broken through the restraints of his self imposed abstinence he feels free, unbound. He rocks into her with firm, desperate jerks of his hips. Deep guttural moans escape his lips as he buries his face in her neck and her hair, drinking in her unique scent. His hands explore the body that moves with him, the dark skin that feels so unimaginably soft. And her breasts … He had never thought that they would arouse him so as it just wasn't something that had ever attracted him before but as he moulds them with his hands his excitement soars even more. “You're beautiful,” he murmurs. 

“So are you,” Zita pants into his mouth. His fingers on her curves make her feel ecstatic. She presses herself towards him and him into her. It's like they're creating a completely new rhythm between them.

Girolamo kind of snorts at Zita calling him beautiful, which he knows not to be true. He's hideous, despicable, worthless. Those are the words he's familiar with. But he lets his tortured mind rest as his body sings to be finally allowed this pleasure he had denied himself all his life. He pumps his hips faster, fucking with abundance into the woman, who has offered herself so willingly to him, with a thirst that would befit her seductive tale, moaning as tendrils of his approaching orgasm set his body on fire. 

Zita feels like his queen now, not like his servant. Their passion is all consuming, overpowering. She’s giving herself over to him as he gives himself over to her. Her whole body moves on its own and she's not sure if she thinks or gasps, “Girolamo,” out loud.

At his name spoken with such care, such desire, the count ejaculates his seed deep inside of her. His climax pulses through his body from head to toe, like waves crashing onto the beach, erasing everything that men may have put there to restore that which God designed. 

As he slowly recovers from the overwhelming pleasure, breathing heavily against Zita’s collarbone, he realises that God has not yet smit him down for succumbing to his sin. “Zita…” he whispers, kissing her skin softly. 

Zita marvels in the very intimate moment that follows her high. Feeling her master spend his seed inside of her, touching her in all the right places, made her so joyous as though she’d be home again. That's what Girolamo is for her now. Home.

“Rest,” she murmurs. Her fingers tangle in his hair as she gently strokes him soothingly, their combined breath slowing down only gradually. 

Rest? 

No, that feels far too comfortable right now. As the heat dissipates from his body and his arousal is finally satisfied, his rationality comes flooding back with a vengeance. Within moments he's up and reaching for his trousers, feeling incredibly vulnerable, exposed and guilty all at once. 

Zita watches the count silently. She's not surprised by his reaction - of course she had not expected him to lie with her like a lover afterwards - but nonetheless the speed with which his warmth has disappeared from her leaves her feeling empty. She bites her lip though and puts her own defences back up too, reminding herself that she had invited him in order to soothe his troubled mind. It is not her right to question his motives now. And so she wraps the sheet around herself as she goes in search of her clothes.

Girolamo follows her with his eyes. He does not regret having broken his vow of celibacy for her; truth is physically he's never felt more fantastic. But part of his heart bleeds for having used her as a tool to release his tensions. 

“Zita, I'm sorry,” he croaks, following her back into the other room.

I’m sorry? Zita is stunned at the apology and doesn’t know how to react. She was the one who’d invited him to do this in the first place. 

“Your Grace,” she says in an also very raspy voice, full of embarrassment, “I...I am sorry too, maybe I should not have … seduced you.” She looks at him from under her lashes. 

The count stands before her, looking at her intently. Then he reaches out and gently caresses her face. “Perhaps … I have no regrets,” he admits, “if you have none?”

A shy smile appears on Zita’s face as she meets the gaze of the man opposite her. He managed to surprise her in so many different ways in such a short span of time, it makes her mind spin. She shakes her head very slightly, enjoying the gentle, reassuring touch, “I have none, Milord.” 

Riario smiles back, his lips twitching. “Good.” He nods awkwardly, having never lost himself with anyone like that before. “And the Lord will guide you continually and satisfy your desire in scorched places; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters do not fail,” his smile widens as he quotes the Bible verse to her. “Thank you for quenching my thirst, my queen,” he adds softly, holding her gaze.

Zita has a hard time not to stare too wide eyed back at her master when he calls her my queen. She surely cannot suppress the little gasp of surprise which she quickly tries to hide, asking, “Shall I tend to your back now, Your Grace?” Her fingers itch to mirror his gesture of stroking her cheek but she knows better not to do that.

“Thank you,” Riario nods, turning his back, grateful that their moment of weakness and lust had not ruined the unusual relationship between them. And perhaps Zita is right. Perhaps there is solace to be found in such intimacy. Perhaps there may come a time again where his thirst is such that he will ask to drink from her fountain once more. 

FIN


End file.
